


i could be lonely with you

by dismaltemperament



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, I DONT KNOW WHY I ALWAYS WRITE ABOUT PARTIES OKAY DONT @ ME, Making Out, Prom, i guess?????, latinx hort and beatrix own my ass, there's no angst don't let the title fool you, yes there's jillicent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25572499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismaltemperament/pseuds/dismaltemperament
Summary: (if you feel lonely, i could be lonely with you / tell me, baby, why do you seem so blue? / why are we so complicated? / maybe love is overrated)Beatrix ends up at senior prom alone and miserable. Lucky for her, Hort's in a similar position.
Relationships: Beatrix/Hort (The School for Good and Evil), Chaddick/Ravan (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15





	i could be lonely with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baetrixv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baetrixv/gifts).



> dedicated to sofia bc i wouldn't have found this wip in the first place had it not been for our lengthy discussions about hortrix. title taken from [Sports by Beach Bunny](https://youtu.be/szeXkBYq5HU), but i swear the fic isn't that angsty dhdhf

Picture this:

You take the time in planning a perfect night with a perfect date at what will be your last chance to have a half-decent prom night, only to get cheated on and dumped the day before. Your mother, more focused on reputation and image than she is her daughter, insists you attend anyway and goes so far as to offer to drive you herself. You kindly tell her _no,_ because that would just be mortifying _and_ sad and you still have a shred of dignity in you, so you put on your tight dress and force a smile and show up to senior prom alone. 

This is Beatrix’s life at the moment. 

She scans the gymnasium from her place on the second floor rafter balcony. She's not exactly sure if she's allowed to be up here, but she doesn't exactly care. She can't make out any faces in the crowd, but she can feel the excitement and heat radiating off them from all the way up here. She should be done there having the time of her life on the arm of some gorgeous football player sure to make her a wealthy wife one day, but oh, would you look at that, she's _not._ Sorry, Mom!

Waste of money. Waste of time. That's all this prom is. Maybe that's just what this entire _school_ is. Or maybe the punch she had two cups of earlier was spiked and she's not thinking correctly.

She grew her hair out for this glorified middle school dance—that's how pumped she was. She’d been planning it all year, and now her hair is nearly shoulder-length and wavy as opposed to the cropped cut she sported during all of junior year. And for what? So she could sit here feeling bad about herself wearing a pretty dress? That's some poetic shit right there. 

She vaguely acknowledges someone sidling up next to her. Eyes low, she glances at them out of the corner of her vision, and—well, she's definitely not _disappointed_ to see Hort. In fact, Hort’s quite preferable to most people she knows. She’s never accidentally hooked up with him while drunk at a party and they tend to get along fairly well.

“So…” he starts, leaning up against the banister. “Fun times, huh?”

“You're hilarious.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and slumps against the railing, halfway hoping to astral project herself out of this place altogether. It has nothing to do with Hort—she just feels exhausted all of a sudden.

When she peels her eyes open again, she finds Hort still standing there. He’s not looking at her and is standing a respectful distance away. He seems to notice someone in the crowd below them and sends the person a small wave—he smiles, and the corners of his mouth crinkle up in a way that's almost endearing. The twinkle in his eye takes Beatrix aback. She always forgets how shockingly earnest he can be when not chasing around his crush of the week.

He was a slimy piece of shit from ages 13 to 16, but took a step back and really worked on himself as a person after Nicola dumped him their sophomore year. That's how Beatrix met him, actually. 

It was a dreary day and cheerleading practice had just ended for Beatrix. There was an air of something muggy and heavy, like it was about to rain; it felt like a bad omen. Beatrix was slumped on one of the bleachers, still in her cheerleading outfit, backpack beneath her feet, and she was not for the first time wondering if she should quit cheer. 

She saw Hort mindlessly stumbling across the track field from a distance. Normally, she wouldn't have bothered interacting (the dude had serious stoner vibes) but she desperately needed something to distract herself, so she called out to him.

He gave her a frozen look like a deer caught in headlights. She was used to low-tier boys acting like that when she was forced to speak with them. She just waved him over. 

He plopped onto the bleacher without saying a word. Beatrix watched as he gazed briskly in the distance at nothing in particular before collapsing, head falling in his hands. She had to admit, she felt sort of bad for the guy. 

“What's up?” she asked him plainly, leaning forward on her knees. 

He didn't shift his position. “I got dumped.”

She snorted because she had no idea how else to react. She’d never been dumped at the time and neither had any of her friends; that kind of thing didn't fly in their group. She mumbled something around the line of, “Shit sucks.”

“Yeah,” he said. He was quiet for a moment, long enough that Beatrix considered checking to see if he still had a pulse. Then he sprung to life in a whirl of temper, slamming his fists against the bleacher and letting out a low yelp. 

“Yeah, it sucks. It fucking sucks. I don't get it—I thought I’d gotten it right with her, I thought we were perfect. It made sense! _We_ made sense!” 

Beatrix's face dropped. Something about his little lovesick outburst had struck a chord with her. She knew that feeling of helplessness in a place that promised safety all too well. 

“Just because it makes _sense_ doesn't make it right. Sometimes we have to trust our feelings over logic. Sometimes you’ve just gotta…” she trailed off before she could say something stupid that she might regret, something idiotic like _Sometimes you just have to follow your heart!_

He turned to her slowly, his face a mixture of frustration and confusion. 

“What would _you_ know about that sorta thing?” he sneered.

She knew what he meant. She asked herself a similar question— _Why am I, Beatrix Jolie, queen bee and head cheerleader, talking to a freak with a name like Hort?_

But instead of spitting back something rude and venomous like that, she said, “I want to quit the cheerleading team.”

She held his gaze as his expression changed. He knew exactly who she was and what she was implying. She remembers biting her lip out of habit and tasting the blood on her tongue. 

“Then you should,” he said finally. 

He wasn't smiling. Neither was she. It was probably better that way. 

Beatrix hadn't really thought about it before, but that was the start of her friendship with Hort. Huh. How much people can change over the years. Quitting the cheerleading team was one of the best decisions she made. She didn’t do it just because he’d aid she should, but her conversation with him was what pushed her to bring it up with Reena and Millicent, her best friends, who were more than happy to hear her out.

Hort changed as well. He went from local street urchin to someone resembling your cute, funny friend from theatre class. He looked especially good right now, with his dark curls somewhat tamed and decked out in a nice form-fitting suit. 

(Holy shit, did Beatrix just accept the fact that Hort might actually be _hot_?) 

She does a double take. He's not smiling anymore, but he's got this vaguely amused look on his face as he dangles over the edge of the banister.

_Oh my God. He's hot._

“Hey…” she says slowly. It successfully grabs his attention and he turns to face her. 

“Yeah?” he wonders, light and easy. 

“You're here by yourself, right?” She cuts to the chase. 

He nods once. “Why—?”

She leans in before he can finish his question. Their noses brush for a second before she pulls back; she's still close enough to kiss him, though. He flushes. That's another thing about Hort—he’s super prone to blushing without meaning to or sometimes even realizing it. 

(Let’s be honest, she already thought that was cute.)

“You wanna get out of here?” she murmurs. It's a question. She wants him to know he has a choice and that things will absolutely not be weird if he backs out. 

(Well, it probably will be, but she's trying to look on the bright side here.)

He swallows. “Yeah, that—that sounds cool.”

She grins. She can't help herself. It's not nefarious or mocking; she just can't help noticing how goddamn adorable he is. He seems to relax at that and gives her a small smile in return.

Her hand finds his somewhere between them and she tugs him toward the door. She checks to make sure there aren't any chaperones monitoring the second floor before pulling him into the hall and twirling around to face him. 

He takes both her hands and gives her a questioning look. She's only a few inches shorter than him, but in heels they're the same height. She places her hand on the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss. 

He tastes like chocolate, she notes immediately. All the boys she's kissed before use mint-flavored mouthwash excessively—in all honesty, she thinks she likes chocolate more. It's less performative and more genuine. It feels _real,_ which isn't something Beatrix’s been accustomed to in any of her past relationships. 

He slides his arms around her waist, then moves them to grip her back. She deepens the kiss and pushes him against the wall, hands tangled in his hair. 

He's a super good kisser. And wow, his hands—they feel experienced, they feel great. For someone who seemed so timid just a few seconds ago, he's holding back nothing now. 

And then a door slams open.

Beatrix pulls apart from Hort but keeps her hands on him, leaning back to glimpse farther down the hall. She can hear voices—familiar ones, in fact. 

“I’m sick of playing games, babe. I get that this is— _fun_ for you, or something, but all it's doing is keeping me up at night, alright?” That's Millicent, who she’s barely caught a glimpse of all night.

“I suggest melatonin pills, then.” And that's Japeth, Millicent’s sleazy long-term boyfriend. Beatrix and Reena have damn near _begged_ Millie to dump his greasy ass, but for whatever reason, she just won't listen. Beatrix is halfway convinced Japeth might be gay, but when she brought it up with Millicent, her friend just sighed and turned the other way.

She looks back to Hort, whose eyes are wide. He mouths something that she discerns to mean, _Should we move?_

She mouths back, _Absolutely._

They quickly saunter off in the opposite direction of where they can hear Millicent and Japeth coming from. Leaving them alone doesn’t really weigh on her conscience; these sorts of fights are typical for them. In fact, she would've been more concerned if she’d seen them passionately making out.

Speaking of making out, Beatrix wastes no time as soon as they've turned the corner into a dead end. The only thing there to greet them is a janitorial closet, which she hastily shoves Hort into. 

She shuts the door behind them and fumbles for a light switch. She finds it right next to the doorknob and flicks, but it only results in a small ceiling bulb behind Hort’s head illuminating. They can see just enough to know no rats that have taken refuge in the closet and that there's a perfectly good wall just to Beatrix's left that's completely bare of shelves or equipment, practically begging to have something shoved against it. 

Hort pins her to the wall and goes straight for her neck. Every kiss feels like a tiny fairy dancing across her skin, and when the kisses become bites, she lets out a little moan. Her hands claw at his back, fighting to get his tux jacket off. 

He extends his arms behind him and lets her slip it right off. She goes for his tie and the buttons of his shirt while he drifts from her neck to her collarbone, one hand dancing riskily by the loose strap of her dress. 

His lips let up for a second and he raises his head. She won't lie, it actually kind of annoys her. She's about to ask why he's stopped when he whispers by her ear, “Is it okay if I give you a hickey?”

She almost laughs out loud. It's so… considerate of him. None of her ex-boyfriends would've asked. 

She places a quick kiss on the side of his face. “Be my guest.” 

Maybe she lets out a small squeal when he bites her her harder than before, maybe she doesn't. All she knows is _this feels really fucking good, why are his lips so soft, does he use Chapstick?_

She groans as he works and snakes her hands around his waist, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. She yanks it out of his tux pants and dips her fingers into his waistband right by his hips, and then—

and then

and then the door fucking opens.

“ _Ay Dios mío,_ ” she and Hort gasp out at the same time. He leans back up but stays pressed against her and she wraps her arms around him like she's pulling him in for a hug. She digs her face into his shoulder and prays it's not Mr. Manley, who will be sure to give them detention on account of “improper conduct on school grounds”.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says a low, disapproving voice. It's not Manley. 

Hort steps away from her but keeps a hand on her waist. Beatrix leans forward to get a better glance at the open door, squinting at the harsh light that's suddenly being filtered in.

An unimpressed (and a little disgusted) Ravan stands at the door. Behind him is Chaddick, his boyfriend, who's got an arm slung around his shoulder. 

Chaddick meets eyes with Beatrix and smirks delightedly. “Well, look who it is. Beatrix Jolie and Hort Scourie, hot and bothered together in the janitor’s closet.” 

Chaddick and Beatrix dated a few years ago. No, he's not the one that cheated on her, but yes, he's the type who wouldn't ask before giving her a hickey. She dumped him on the grounds that he was “distracting her from her studies”. They're friends, yeah, but she doesn't regret it in the slightest. 

“Ravan,” Hort says blandly. Beatrix knows they're good buddies, so she doubts he’s seeing anything he hasn't seen before, but Ravan’s also known for being… kind of a hard-ass. “Chaddick. Fancy meeting you two here.”

“Right back at you,” Ravan says dryly, making an obvious act of not meeting either of their eyes. Chaddick couldn't look more pleased. 

“You see, it's funny that we ran into y’all hooking up here, because that's exactly what we were gonna do,” Chaddick boosts, giving Beatrix a discreet wink. She holds back a snort at the way Ravan’s shoulders immediately tighten and his pupils go small. 

“You—” he begins to sputter, but Chaddick just turns him around and pulls him into a good five-second kiss. When they separate, Ravan gives him a mildly satisfied look. 

“Okay, okay, that's enough of that!” Hort shoves past the pair and takes Beatrix with him. At this point, she can't help bursting out laughing at the situation as a whole. 

“Hey, Bea, you got a little something, uh…” 

Beatrix turns toward Chaddick at the mention of her name. He's gesturing vaguely at her arm and she realizes, after glancing at it, that her sleeve’s still down. She sheepishly pushes it back into place, but when she looks up, Chaddick is holding his hand out for a high five and she doesn't hesitate to return it. 

“I’m assuming this is yours,” Ravan says as he pulls something out from the closet—it's Hort’s tux jacket, and Hort immediately snatches it back. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” he says quickly as he throws it over one shoulder. 

Beatrix spares him a quick glance and feels a swell of pride at the sight of his shirt buttons, which are still messily undone. 

No one makes any signal of moving. An awkward tension has seeped into the room, and—

Oh, for crying out loud. It's their senior prom. They might as well _try_ to make some original memories aside from last-minute hookups in the closet.

“Do you guys wanna go stargaze on the roof of my car?” She directs the question to all three boys, but pays extra close attention to Hort’s reaction.

He doesn't even hesitate. He takes her hand again and she studies every detail on his face: the freckles on his nose; the flush of his cheek; the twinkle in his eye that she's grown to appreciate.

(When this is all over, she's absolutely asking him on a date.) 

“Don't see why not,” Ravan says from behind her. 

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Chaddick adds. 

Hort places a quick, soft kiss to her temple. The gesture nearly knocks the wind out of her, it's so unexpected. 

When he pulls back, he's beaming. 

“Of course, Bea,” he says. 


End file.
